Page 86 of Inside Out
“Julius, I’m going to accept your gracious offer and stay at your apartment while I enjoy a much-needed break.”
I was too excited to ask how she was able to stay an entire month if she only had three weeks of vacation to use. My mom was a sensible woman, and I had no reason to question her.
“No, you must stay with us,” Rome said. “I have a spare bedroom.”
“Huh-uh,” Mom said, shaking her head. “I won’t be an intrusive mother in-law. We’ll get to spend plenty of time together, but we’ll have our separate spaces too.”
“You won’t win,” I whispered to Rome when it looked like he would argue.
Seeing Rome with kids always made my heart so happy, and I looked forward to us having kids of our own. That thought reminded me of the remark I made in class about permutations and combinations. The components of the formula were the same: two men and a baby. The difference between combination and permutation was in the order. Combination implied we could adopt a baby just as we were: two men who were committed to each other. A permutation implied the components should be applied in a specific order, and for Rome and me, that would include marriage before adoption. Old fashioned, yes, but I knew it was the outcome both of us wanted.
Mama arrived the following week like she promised, and she held tight to Rome when we picked her up from the airport. They’d talked, video chatted, and texted a lot over the last few months, but it couldn’t compare to meeting in person. She cried, and Rome got choked up too. I just stood there grinning like an idiot waiting for my turn as people walked by smiling at the spectacle they made.
“I’ve waited for you for such a long time, Romeo Bradley,” my mom said, cupping his cheek.
“Mom, are you trying to steal my guy?” I asked.
“Hush,” she said, waving her hand in my general direction. “You’re even more beautiful in person.”
“I was about to say the same thing about you,” Rome said, hugging her again.
“We’re due at the Álvarez’s house for dinner in an hour. Camilla said her mom makes the best empanadas,” I said. They continued to ignore me as Mom gushed about how happy Rome made me, and he in turn told her that I was the best thing to ever happen to him.
“Oh, my heart,” Mama said, clutching her chest. Then she turned to face me. “You never stood a chance at resisting him, Son.” It was true; I hadn’t. Just like I knew she didn’t stand a chance of resisting the charm of Blissville and the lure of being close to both her sons while they built lives with the people they loved. It came as no surprise to me when Mama announced she wasn’t returning to Philly other than to sell her home. She spent part of her vacation interviewing for jobs at hospitals nearby and looking for a quaint home to buy in Blissville.
The next month flew by in a whirlwind of decorating, eating, play rehearsals, eating, parties, eating, a holiday parade, eating, shopping, and more eating. There were a lot of festivities and even more eating, but through it all there was so much love and happiness. The level of sappiness surpassed the sappiest movie ever to grace the Hallmark Channel. I mean, seriously. Two men move to a new town for fresh starts, fall in love, and live happily ever after.
As exciting as it was to be surrounded by our families, I was grateful that Rome and I carved out quite a bit of time just for us. We had plans to combine both sides of our families for one huge bash at Ashley’s on Christmas day, but Christmas Eve belonged to just us. I made an intimate dinner for two, we drank wine, exchanged gifts, and made love by the Christmas tree lights while listening to the song I recorded for Rome as one of his gifts. I had almost drifted to sleep when I noticed Rome had replaced the picture in the built-in frame on the entertainment center. Instead of Rome and Peter staring into each other’s eyes, there was a picture of us kissing on the stage the first night Rome told me he loved me.
“When did you do that?” I asked, pointing to the frame.
Rome didn’t lift his head off my chest. “A while ago,” he said sleepily. “Turns out that homophobic asshat can take a good picture.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“The Hammer,” Rome said then yawned. “Out of the blue, he emailed it to me. He said the origin of the picture shouldn’t take away from the beauty of the moment.”
“The Hammer said that?” I asked suspiciously.
“I might be paraphrasing, but it’s still the truth.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to make a big fuss out of it. I loved Peter, and I’ll always be grateful for our memories. You’re the one, Jules. You’re the love of my life, and I want everyone to see it when they come into our home. Over the years, that picture will change to show our love evolving and our lives expanding.”
I imagined a picture of us holding a baby or a toddler between us. We would kiss our child’s cheek at the same time while someone snapped a picture of us. Later, there would be us at graduations, and weddings, and every other big moment in our family’s life. Our faces and bodies would change over time, wrinkles and age spots would mar our skin, our eyes would cloud over with cataracts, and our hearing would turn to shit, but one thing would remain the same: Romeo and Julius forever.